


Push

by akaya



Category: Captain America, Iron Man - Fandom, The Avengers
Genre: Captain America is confused and Tony is a tease, M/M, this is almost porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaya/pseuds/akaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are always going to be confusing for Steve. It doesn't matter that it's been a few months since he'd woken up in the twentieth-first century, or that he is more or less used that things changed and that the world is very different from the one he'd left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push

Some things are always going to be confusing for Steve. It doesn't matter that it's been a few months since he'd woken up in the twentieth-first century, or that he is more or less used that things changed and that the world is very different from the one he'd left behind.

He is still not very good with computers, and the phone – _It's a smart phone, Steve_ \- Tony gave him seems so fragile in his big hands that Steve tries not to use it too much, fearing it would break if he pressed too hard.

It's a secret, but Steve is torn between being in awe of the modern technology and loathing it with all his heart. It's amazing, just how much can you learn from such a simple thing like that Google thing Tony had showed him on the Internet, or that you can listen to music anywhere at any time.

You can reach out for people not even bothering to get out of your house. Moreover you can even fight with them, Tony once showed him how, and Steve remembers the man called it trolling and seemed to enjoy himself a bit too much.

 _Personally_ , Steve thinks to himself while checking his e-mail – Tony said each one of the Avengers had to have one, in case a quick communication was needed – ignoring another chain letter from Thor. _It's even worse than Facebook_.

He doesn't understand how Tony can enjoy it so much, or Thor for that matter, who took to the whole social network thing rather quickly, which kind of really surprised Steve, because _shouldn't a Norse God have bigger problems getting used to such things than he does_?

“Talking to yourself again, Steve?” An amused voice interrupts him, and when Steve looks up from the small screen of his smart phone he sees Tony standing in the entry way, casually leaning against one side and still wearing his Iron Man's suit.

Steve detests this suit. For many reasons, one of them being that Tony is ridiculously attractive even without the sleek, elegant piece of machinery he wears to battle. _Yes_ , this is indeed, one of the confusing things as well. It's hard to tell if he finds Tony's suit fascinating, because it's a really admirable piece of technology or because of a man, who wears it.

“Earth to Steve,” Tony says again, and Steve barely registers him stepping closer and waving a hand in front of his face. _The red and gold colour scheme is really nice, the details are well made_ , Steve notes instead. _No screw out of place_ , everything looks so smooth that his fingers twitch to touch.

“Um,” he says intelligently, realizing that the way he is acting it simply rude. “Sorry, I've been checking my e-mails,” he explains, with a subtle flush to his cheeks.

Tony chuckles, and throws him one of his patented smirks, “Thor spamming you with the chain letters again? What is it this time, kittens?”

“No,” Steve answers with a bemused smile. “No, kittens. I'm just ignoring them,” he admits with a shrug, pocketing his phone. As oppose to Tony, he's wearing his civil clothes today, well worn pleated trousers with a white t-shirt, and while usually he'd be perfectly comfortable, with Tony in his battle gear, he feels under-dressed, his clothes a bit too revealing.

Or it may be the way Tony is looking at him, with this slightly flirtatious manner that seems to come to him as easy as the ability to breathe. He reminds Steve of Howard at times like these. It's in the eyes, in the curve of his mouth and in those dark-brown curls that look so soft and plaint to the touch. Steve already made peace with himself that he wants to touch, but he doesn't dare.

He likes Tony. He _really_ likes Tony, and as open minded as the other man is, it would still be awkward to be around each other if Steve tried to make such a move.

“Steve,” Tony's smirk widens as he shakes his head and takes a step backward, disengaging the Iron Man suit, and stepping out of it gracefully. “One would think you're in love, with all this spacing out business.”

“I'm just a bit tired I guess,” he lies, and rubs at his eyes, leaning back on one of the consoles in the room, mindful not to press anything important, and send armed missiles at some fool's home. “And I haven't been expecting anyone up here today.”

“Crime never sleeps,” Tony answers him, and stretches. The soft blue light from his heart reactor – as Tony himself dubbed it – visible, even under his black under-shirt. “Or so they say,” he chuckles, and looks Steve in the eye. “Sometimes it's the justice that can't sleep, so is this the case?”

“I sleep very well considering,” Steve jokes, and smiles. “I just feel the most comfortable here, I guess,” he answers, his eyes following Tony as he walks over to the small refrigerator on the side and pulls out a bottle of soda, his back to Steve.

“Yeah, I can get that feeling too,” Tony chuckles, but doesn't turn and Steve indulges himself, observing him. It's a rare opportunity for his eyes to roam freely, usually there is always someone else in a room with them. But it's early morning, and the world outside is still slightly hazy, content, not yet ready for another mischief of Loki, Thor's brother.

Tony is, by no means, a weak man, but he's not as tall as Thor, or Captain America himself and he is nowhere as bulked up - _thank God for that_ , Steve thinks – like Hulk. He doesn't have to, his wiry muscles envelop his body really beautifully, and the way he handles himself is enough for him to be a super hero even without gear and -

“You've got a really nice backside,” it slips, before Steve can stop himself and he feels his blood run cold, when Tony visibly stiffens, before slowly straightening and turning away from the fridge to look at him with an unreadable expression. _Shit_ , thinks Steve. _There goes the friendship part._

“So I've been told,” Tony says slowly, and he doesn't look angry, more than anything he looks amused, and a little flattered. “You're not so bad on the eyes yourself, big man,” he chuckles and walks closer to Steve, with the latter still leaning against the console they're more or less at the same eye level, which adding to the almost non-existent personal space between them, suddenly seems very intimate.

“I, thank you?” Steve utters and feels himself flushing slightly, having yet another flashback of the blonde woman from the past, crowding him against the shelves with documents and this is probably not the best moment for remembering such situations. “I'm sorry, Tony,” he sighs, trying to calm himself down.

“What for?” Tony's eyebrows travel up his forehead and he looks so much like Howard at the moment, that it kills Steve a bit, because it's not enough to stop himself from thinking that he'd very much touch his face, his eyes and lips. It's wrong to have such urges, not because Tony is a man, but because he is Howard's son and it would be unfair for both of them. “You complimented me, it's hardly anything offensive.”

“I shouldn't have done that,” Steve smiles bashfully, and makes a move to stand up, but Tony is faster, swiftly moving closer, one of his palms warm and solid on the blonde's chest.

“You shouldn't apologize for something if you meant it,” he says, voice firm and uncomfortably loud in the room. “You're a living legend. You're Captain America.”

Steve snorts at that and pushes Tony's palm away, trying not to think to much of the warm, slightly callused fingers and how they feel against his skin, “It seems I'm only that, Tony. There is no place for Steve Rogers in this world,” he snorts, feeling bitter rather than happy at finally being able to voice those thoughts aloud.

“You know it's not true,” Tony huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at him, now that Steve straightened he didn't have much choice.

“It's not like I'm mad,” Steve counters, and tries to smile, but it comes more like a grimace. “It's everything I always wanted, to fight for my country and I couldn't ask for me... But -” he stops and chuckles, looking Tony in the eye. “Where do I belong in all of that. People don't know who Steve Rogers is, there is no one left to remember, all of them are dead.”

 _Colonel Phillips, Peggy and even Howard._

“My father had your picture in his wallet,” Tony says softly, moving away from Steve and looking at his Iron Man's gear, still standing in the middle of the room, like a fancy modern sculpture.

Steve huffs a small laugh at this, “Everyone did. Captain America was an icon,” he sighs, and wonders if he perhaps misses the times, but the thought quickly fades when he sees Tony's arms shaking, and at first Steve thinks the man is crying, but then he realizes that is not that. Tony is laughing.

“You misunderstood me,” he says and turns his head to look Steve in the eye again. “He had your picture in the wallet, not Mr. First Avenger, Captain America one.”

“Howard did?” Steve asks, momentarily stupefied, and Tony nods simply, eyes crinkling in the corner when he smiles.

“Yeah, not that he meant for me to see it of course,” he bridles. “He wasn't exactly what you'd call a father figure for me.”

“I don't understand... Why?”

“My father never told me he loved,” Tony answers him with a nonchalant shrug. “Never even told me he _liked_ me,” he adds in a serious voice, and Steve feels something alien, ugly coil in the pit of his stomach. The Howard he remembers had been an incorrigible flirt, practically married to his work – and more than a little obsessed with it - _but he was a good person. He cared._

“I seem to be missing more than I'd thought,” he says after a prolonged moment of heavy silence. “I had no idea.”

“Trust me when I say,” Tony grins, stepping closer again and patting Steve's arm in a friendly manner, letting the hand linger there, squeezing softly at his bicep. “You shouldn't worry about missing some things.”

“I'm an old man, who had slept for almost seventy years, Tony,” he says, the thought rather depressing him.

“So it makes you a very attractive ninety year old,” Tony chuckles, and smirks up at him. “Can't say I mind.”

“What?” Steve blinks, Tony's word surprising him,seemingly less playful than usual. “You find me attractive?”

“I'd have to be blind not to,” Tony snorts, and drums his fingers against Steve's skin. “Though, it wouldn't change much if I was blind, which hopefully will not happen, because extremis is useful in a battle, but I'd rather use my own two eyes when being myself.”

“But you flirt with Ms. Natasha all the time,” he answers, brows scrunching, and Tony laughs good naturedly, licking his lips, which brings Steve's attention _right there_ , before answering.

“And Pepper, and this lovely lady from the Doughnut place,” he adds, grinning widely. “I think I also complimented Fury once, or twice, but it's something I'd rather not remember,” he says, and pulls off a rather disgusted look on his face. “I was very drunk,” he admits.

Steve doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know if they're on the same page with this conversation, and he's starting to get distracted with Tony's palm on his arm, because it's warm, larger than a woman's would be, and he can't be blamed if, even after spending most of his life frozen like a mammoth, he still has urges and wants to touch.

So he does, hesitantly reaching for Tony's belt buckle, and pulling him closer, flushing their chests together, heart ready to jump out of his chest. He hopes he is not making a mistake here, but then Tony's breath hitches and, “That's more like it,” he rumbles, voice rough, deeper. “What now?” He asks tentatively after a moment, in case Steve changes his mind and bails.

“I don't know,” Steve answers him truthfully, cheeks flushing red. He doesn't have that much experience, he only kissed two people in his life and both of them were women, so he's a bit lost here, and he is more than aware that Tony has much more experience here.

The man in question seems to feel his apprehension, his palm moving upwards, curling behind Steve's neck and giving him a slight tug. “You're taller than me,” he smirks. “I can't kiss you if you're up there,” he chuckles and tugs more insistently, and Steve doesn't have to be told twice.

The kiss is not what he'd been expecting, for once, Tony's face is not smooth, stubble rough against Steve's skin, and he doesn't smell like perfumes or make up. He smells of soap, machines and something musky and it goes straight to Steve's lower regions. Makes him want more, makes him want to push his face against Tony's neck and breathe in, holding the other tight.

He pulls away from the kiss with difficulty, putting his forehead against Tony's, eyes closed, as his hands move to the others' back, palms moving on their own accord, greedily touching, feeling the other's hot skin, even through the material and Tony makes a noise, a low, pleased rumble in his chest that Steve feels with his whole being and that goes straight to his cock.

“You were saying I have what, a very nice backside?” He chuckles lowly and Steve's eyes snap open at this, making him go cross-eyed for a moment.

“You do,” he breathes against the other's lips and moves his hands lower, bracketing Tony's butt-cheeks, pulling him harder against himself and creating a delicious friction. “Very nice,” he adds and dives for another kiss, this time more intensive. He can feel Tony's erection twitch in his jeans, feel the warmth of it against his own and can't stop the growl, that the other swallows greedily.

“And I thought you were shy,” Tony rasps into their kiss, grinning sharply and moving his hips in a lewd motions, not shy about the action in the slightest.

“I thought you weren't interested,” Steve counters and pushes one of his palms under Tony's shirt, scratching at the bare skin, feeling the muscles twitch underneath, making the man hiss.

“Damn it. You can't blame me for feeling a bit intimidated,” he rolls his eyes, and pushes away, swiftly pulling the offending piece of clothing off and Steve's attention zeroes on the reactor in the middle of his chest, wanting to touch it, but not sure how to ask.

“It's not made of glass,” Tony says, and reaches for one of Steve's hands, and pulls it towards his chest. “It could take out a whole city if broken, but it's not that easy to destroy,” he shrugs, fingers warm around Steve's wrist and it's so Tony to act all careless while practically carrying a bomb inside his body that Steve can't help the fond smile that finds its way onto his face.

“How does it feel?” He asks, fingers tracing the metallic edge of the reactor, the surface smooth and cold, so different from Tony's hot skin.

“Like I have a huge piece of shrapnel stuck in my chest,” Tony chuckles, and Steve's fingers pause in their ministrations. The thought making him feel sick, but then, “I'm joking, don't worry,” Tony adds and pulls him closer, biting playfully at Steve's jaw. “It doesn't feel like anything really, I'm used to it.”

“I never asked how,” Steve sighs and leans more into the slighter man, rubbing his cheek against Tony's bristled one, feeling content that he is allowed to.

“I will tell you when you want to know,” Tony murmurs into his ear, and bites it softly, teeth making small indentations in it, but not breaking the skin and Steve feels a spike of arousal renew itself. “Now, we were in the middle of something, weren't we?”

“You don't play fair,” Steve huffs, arms tightening around Tony as he leans back enough to throw him a half-hearted glare, but it's hard not to smile at the other's cheeky grin.

“You enjoy it,” Tony answers him, one eyebrow raised and he pushes his hips forward, leering outwardly. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah,” Steve answers him, pupils dilated as he dares to move his hand lower, between their bodies and squeezes the bulge in Tony's jeans. ”I enjoy myself,” he says, voice raspy. The air around them suddenly much too warm, making him dizzy with longing and it's only natural to reach for Tony's lips again, to push the need to breathe into the back of his head, and kiss until there is no Avengers tower, no Captain America or Iron Man, just Steve and Tony. Here and now.

 _It's a bit like going crazy_ , Steve thinks as Tony pushes him backwards, his legs hitting one of the – thankfully – inactive consoles in the room. Hips rutting together, shamelessly lost in pleasure and Steve doesn't care about anything else. Focusing on Tony, on his lips, taste, roaming hands and the hot, so hot, skin, and it's so good that it's almost too much, and God, he's so close and they're still mostly dressed and -

“That's what I've told you before, you don't just go around telling everyone you're a Norse God, and then – What?” Banner walks in, with Thor in tow, and Steve thinks he's never going to be able to look them properly in the eye, but the worst thing is that he is still on the brink of an orgasm, so he stills. Praying for his body to calm down.

“Gentlemen,” Tony is the one to break the awkward silence. “We weren't expecting you.”

“So I see,” Banner frowns and looks at a spot somewhere above both of their heads, he looks visibly uncomfortable, and Steve really can't blame him at the moment. The situation is anything but normal, and he feels like a teenager that got caught with his pants down, and they're still wearing clothes too!

“That must've been some battle,” Thor chuckles and looks at them, as if walking in on your colleagues making out, was an everyday occurrence.

“What?” Steve squeaks, before clearing his throat. “What?” He asks again, fingers unconsciously tightening on Tony's skin, who in turn gives him a soft hiss, and Steve knows they heard that. At least Thor did .

“It's not uncommon for great warriors to indulge in each others company after a great battle,” Thor says, still watching them and it's really unnerving.

“Isn't it more of a Greek thing?” Tony asks, and Steve really, _really_ wants to punch him, but thankfully he doesn't have to, because Banner, _the wonderful, wonderful and sensitive person_ , decides to intervene.

“We can have this conversation later,” he says and turns to the door, urging Thor with him as well, although the man looks like he'd rather stay and join them, but Steve does not want to think of this possibility. “Or never,” Banner adds, and throws Steve a sympathetic glance, before getting out and making sure he'd closed the door after them.

“Well,” Tony says, cracking a small smile. “That was interesting.”

“I'm never talking to you again,” Steve exhales heavily and glares at him. “Actually, I'm leaving the Avengers,” he ushers, cheeks burning.

“It wasn't so bad,” Tony laughs, and moves against him. “You're still hard,” he grins against the skin of Steve's neck.

“Not because I want to – God,” he moans, when Tony bites him again, harder than the last time and it's distracting him from what need to be said, but also very nice and Steve could get used to it, but - “Damn it, Tony!” He hisses, and puts his palm over Tony's face, successfully stopping him for a moment. “Not here!”

“I'm not sure I can walk like that,” Tony admits, looking him in the eye. “It would be painful, to say the least.”

“I'm not risking anyone else walking in on us again,” Steve answers sternly, even if he understands quite well what the other man is getting at. He's so hard, it's painful and moving in this condition could be hardly considered pleasant.

“I -” Tony says and takes a deep breath, stepping away from Steve, and it should be easier to calm down now, not feeling another body against his own, but the look Tony throws him is hungry and full of promises, “There is a double bed in my room,” and it makes Steve a bit weak in the knees.

“Fine,” he nods and straightens, coming to a decision. “And I'm not making out with you in the elevator,” he says and almost smiles at the crest-fallen expression on Tony's face, but manages to keep his face impassive – as much as it is possible with a raging hard-on still present.

“The corridor?”

“No, Tony,” he answers and flushes harder, ”Your room, your bed.”

“I can live with that,” Tony grins.

 

It's a beginning.

+

**Author's Note:**

> Self beta, kudos, comments and critics always appreciated.


End file.
